Amidst the Rolling Sea
by justanotherclassic
Summary: Emma wonders if Killian ever misses his life at sea.


It's summer.

The sun sits high in the sky, and not a cloud is to be seen against the expanse of bright blue. The air is warm, but not oppressive, and the breeze lightly blows, twisting her hair with each gentle gust.

Emma looks down at her toes buried in the sand, the purple color of her nail polish contrasting with the white of the beach. Killian lays next to her on a towel, sprawled out and enjoying one of their blessedly few quiet moments in Storybrooke. Though no one bothers them, there are other on the beach, squeals of laughter and enjoyment carrying over the sound of the ocean's lapping waves.

All in all, the afternoon is the definition of idyllic.

Though as Emma sits on her own towel, her lover half-asleep and half-naked next to her, she can't help but feel a sense of unease and worry. She's rarely been one for complacency, and it's only recent that she's had anything to feel complacent about. She has a gorgeous home, a man who loves her, parents who believe in her, and a son who never fails to make her swell with pride each and every day. It's everything she could ever want.

So, of course, it is in this moment of quiet – a moment when she really ought to be enjoying the many small blessings in life – a flurry of fears swirl inside her.

"Do you ever miss it?" Emma asks suddenly, eyes fixed on the rolling waves of the sea. Killian hums next to her, acknowledging her question but wanting to know the context. So she clarifies. "The ocean, travel, exploration. You know, not being in Storybrooke."

"Sometimes," he answers truthfully. He leans up on his forearms to better look at her, eyebrow popping in inquiry from behind his own sunglasses. "Why do you ask?"

She thinks of Jolly, and how he is a pirate, sailor, and former man of the Navy. She thinks of all the places he's been – the ports with different sights and smells, the strange beaches and even stranger people – that he's described to her over the course of their relationship. She thinks of their home, his name elegantly signed on the deed, and the slightly claustrophobic nature of town that they are sometimes cursed to never leave.

Emma thinks all of these things, but instead she tells him, "I don't know. I was just curious."

"Emma," he begins, his voice gentle. She admires the flex of his muscles as he pulls himself into a sitting position. He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own, stroking his thumb softly over her skin. "I don't have your superpower, but I know there's more to your question than that."

"Maybe."

It's possible that she is behaving somewhat childish in her evasiveness, but she doubts there is any other way to convey just how she is feeling. It's silly, really, because the objective part of her recognizes that Killian simply won't go bored of Storybrooke and leave. He's her True Love. They're blessed by the Greek Pantheon. And yet –

She's still the Lost Girl, or rather, she remembers all to well how it felt to be so lost. She still has her scars, the memories of being picked over, discarded, and abandoned. In the calm, when things are finally going her way, Emma can't help but wonder when the other shoe will drop. It always does.

"If you're concerned I ever want to leave this town, please rest assured that I would never go anywhere without you or your boy."

And then there's Killian, stepping in and always knowing just how she's feeling. There are times when Emma thinks he really is magic with the way he's able to read her. She's read about the type before – empaths.

But really it's because of the True Love thing. Apparently it comes with being on the same wavelength for a lot of things. It's probably why she's always been such an open book to him. Destiny and all of that jazz. Not that she really wants to think of them as fated, because that takes away the importance of her choosing him and him choosing her.

However, what certainly isn't fate, but rather a choice, is Henry. Killian doesn't have to love Henry. He doesn't have to be father figure to him, but he chooses to, and that means more than anything to Emma.

Because if he left, it's not just her he would be leaving, but also Henry. Henry, who already lost one father. Two, if one counts Robin, which only seems fair. Emma knows that Killian dying affected her son more than he let on, and if he left again, how much it would destroy him.

"But what if I can't go anywhere?" Emma asks him, lacing their fingers. She feels the press of his rings against her skin and takes comfort in it. "Being the Savior, it kind of keeps me here taking care of things. And if that doesn't, the town line is almost always cursed, so we can't leave without forgetting or being frozen or being turned into a tree."

"I'm fine with staying here, Emma. This truly is a charming little town," he tells her, his voice filled with so much love and reassurance it makes her heart want to burst. "Besides, it's not as if we don't travel, darling. In the past year, we've been to both Camelot and the Underworld. That's enough adventure for quite awhile, I think."

"But you would tell me that when you were a pirate, you would visit dozens of different ports in month! It might be years before we have to go somewhere," Emma protests. This time, she knows she's being a bit silly, especially since Killian chuckles.

"First of all, Swan, I am always a pirate," he teases. Even with the sunglasses, she knows he is winking at her. "Secondly, I did enjoy visiting many ports and lands. But that was on the Jolly, and the ship was my home. It's not anymore."

It hits her, then, the weight behind his words. It reminds her how he gave up the Jolly for her, his home, in the hope that he could find his second one. He succeeded, she supposes. No, knows, she knows he found him home, just as she has found hers. Slowly she begins to feel the edge of her anxiety fade away. It won't dissipate forever, and she doubts it ever will completely go away. For now, however, she has one important truth that will abate her fears.

"Your home is here."

"Aye, my love," he agrees, "my home is here."


End file.
